


Strangely Perfect

by Xanoka



Series: Team Bobsled [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fandot Creativity, Fandot Creativity Night, Fluff, Fluffier than a bunny, Future Fic, Martin is flustered, Team Bobsled, babies ever after, for a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanoka/pseuds/Xanoka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 3 am and a certain Princess is keeping Martin up at all hours.  Not that he's complaining, of course.... Written for the Fandot Creativity Night prompt 'Wind'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangely Perfect

It was the wind rattling on the windows that first woke them.  Over the noise of the storm outside they could both hear the faint sound.

“It’s all right.  I’ll get it this time.”

The floor was freezing underfoot. 

_Note to self.  Buy slippers._

Martin padded quietly down the hall, trying not to feel jealous as Theresa turned over with a sleepy murmur and burrowed back under the covers.

_Lucky._

But fair was fair.  It was definitely his turn.

_Kitchen first or…_

The decision was made for him as the whimper grew into an unhappy wail which, he knew from experience, could easily turn into a brain-shredding shriek.

“Hush, hush!  It’s OK!  I’m here.”

Huge dark eyes fixed on him reproachfully and little arms flailed in his general direction as he crossed the nursery in two strides to scoop the baby up.  He just managed to avoid hitting her head on the planes dangling from her mobile, earning an angry growl.  He bounced her hastily.

“Right.  Right.  The kitchen.  Are you hungry?”

The baby glowered back at him.  Somehow, despite all the laws of biology, she’d managed to inherit Auntie Carolyn’s patented Death Glare and seemed to know it.  Despite himself, Martin began to sweat.

“Kitchen.  Kitchen.  Right.”

He almost jogged down the stairs and sloshed water everywhere as he filled the kettle and set it to boiling.  Fortunately, he managed to bite back the curses.  Theresa would not have approved.  Neither did Erika, judging by her increasingly loud, growling wails.

Nudging her higher up on his shoulder he hummed and bounced her with quiet desperation, even as he prepared the bottle and formula with his other hand. 

Finally, the kettle whistled and the bottle was filled and cooling in the sink as they paced the kitchen.  The wind was still howling outside, and Erika seemed determined to give it a run for its money.  Her little face was screwed up in fury as she opened her mouth to really let rip.

_“Come fly with me.  Let’s fly, let’s fly away!”_

The baby paused, staring at him in wonder.  Encouraged, he launched into the next line and the next.  She was smiling by the verse, and by the time he reached the second chorus they were shuffling around the kitchen in an awkward waltz.

Erika was gurgling happily, though, and the tension was melting away as he smiled.

“Goodness!  What’s this?”

It was Theresa, wrapped in a dressing gown and smiling sleepily at them both.

“Oh!  What are you doing up?  It’s my turn.  You should be asleep!”

She shrugged and moved to join them, winding her arms around his waist.

“Well, I was trying.  But then I heard Frank Sinatra singing downstairs in my house.  So I had to come and see.”

He blushed.  It surely clashed horribly with his hair.

“Oh… well… Do you really think I sound like Frank Sinatra?” 

And there it was.  Together for almost eight years, and he still sounded ridiculously shy.

But she only smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

“Even better.”

Of course, Erika chose that exact moment to start fussing again.  Their little Princess had to live up to her title, after all.

The milk had cooled and a sleepy baby was soon fed and resting against his shoulder as he patted her back gently.  She huffed and snuffled ticklishly but otherwise didn’t complain.  Or burp.  Martin patted her back a little harder, letting his head fall back as he leaned against the counter.

_God, he was tired_.

Theresa joined him, leaning her head on his shoulder.  She was breathing slowly, just as tired as him.

A smile tugged the corner of his lip.

It was 3 am.  He had work tomorrow. 

But he also had two beautiful ladies in his arms. 

He didn’t get this lucky.  It was almost enough to make him paranoid, like winning a bet against Douglas.

Erika hiccupped, and Martin felt sticky wetness spread down his back. 

And there it was. 

_Damn._

But still strangely perfect.


End file.
